Cedric Diggory and the Triwizard Tournament
by frigginapplepie
Summary: Every Harry Potter fan is familiar with the tales of the Triwizard Tournment as told through the eyes of the champion. But there were three other competitors: Krum, Fleur and Cedric.This is the same story we all know and love, only now it's through the ey
1. Chapter One

Cedric Diggory's eyes opened instantly when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. Yet that was nothing new, as Cedric was a light sleeper, and was roused easily by nightly noises or soft conversations. What he could not do, however, was hoist himself out of bed and get a move on with his day.

"Come on, Ced," his father whispered with enthusiasm. "If you don't get moving, then we'll miss the Portkey."

Cedric sat up quickly, a grin spreading infectiously across his face. His eyes lit up with excitement, a sudden memory crashing down on him. "That's right," he said, equally as quiet. "Quidditch World Cup, how could I have forgotten?"

With that, he bounded out of bed, dodging his father and flinging himself at his dresser, rummaging through its contents. "Remember, son," his father said as he left the room. "Dress like a Muggle. We don't want any trouble with the Ministry, do we?"

Cedric roguishly smiled at his father. "Now Dad, why I do something as stupid as that?"

"Hm, should we think about that?" Mr. Diggory replied as he shut the bedroom door quietly behind him. He stood outside of his son's room for a moment, listening as his son gave a great, whooping cheer. He closed his eyes softly, shaking his head, and walked away.

"'Dress Muggle,' he says," Cedric mimicked to himself. He loved his father dearly, but sometimes, he reflected, he says the mostly bluntly obvious things. _I'm smarter then he wants to admit,_ Cedric thought to himself as he pulled out a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt. Before dashing into the bathroom, he cast a quick glance at the small radio alarm beside his bed.

_Only two-thirteen,_ he thought as he turned back to go into the restroom. _Good, I should have a little_.

He turned on the water in the shower, letting it run hot for a moment before he got in. He adjusted the water, not caring if it got too hot or too cold, but only concentrating on the fact that he was less then a days away from seeing the Irish duke it out against the Bulgarians. He pitched his head back into the water, letting it run down his face. _Only a few more hours. Just a few hours. I can wait that long. I can do it, no big deal; it's only until tonight. I can –_

"I can't wait for it any longer!" he burst out. Quickly, he covered his mouth, looking around to make sure that no one heard him. Remembering that he was in a shower and that no one would be watching him, he let out a sigh, grabbing the shampoo and lathering it in his hair.

"I can wait," he said quietly. "It's only a few hours, innit?"

_Only a few hours…just wait until tonight, Ced._

The rest of his shower was sloppy and rushed. _The sooner he got done_, he reasoned, _the sooner the Cup would come. And the sooner the Cup came…._

Then what?

As he toweled his hair dry, he tried to figure out what happened after that. _Well, I'll be going back to Hogwarts for seventh year, but I have to wait for nearly a month. I'll get to finish my schoolwork, but that's not much to cheer about. So, what is it that will be worth the Cup ending for?_

Maybe there's nothing, and that's just it. Maybe I'm just excited for the Cup, and won't want it to end when the time comes. That may be it. I think it is. I mean, it is Quidditch. But if that's the case, then I'm only setting myself up for a fall, and that's no fun.

Now why on Earth am I even thinking about this?

He slid on his jeans, then his shirt, and finished by running the comb swiftly through his hair. He looked in the mirror, making sure that his part was straight He then opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and removed his toothbrush.

It was possibly the most unprofessional brushing he had ever done, but as he ran down the stairs, he really didn't have much time to care. He made a sharp turn as he entered the kitchen, taking the seat nearest the sink. His parents looked at him in shock as he flung an arm over the back of the chair, leaning unceremoniously to the side.

His mother looked at him over the top of the paper, her face coated in some new, greenish-blue beauty product or another. She raised an eyebrow at him, asking, "Is there a reason that you are up this early?"

Cedric looked at her as though she had sprouted an extra head. "Are you…are you serious, Mum?" he questioned back. He folded his arms on the tabletop, leaning in on her in amazement. "Tell me you're kidding."

His mother imitated him, leaning forwards and setting the newspaper down. "Do you think I'd have forgotten?" she answered, sarcasm in her voice. She leaned back again, covering her face from view with the Editorial section of the paper. "You boys and half the wizards you two pull in here have been talking about it for weeks, months even, and you take me as someone who's about to forget that the Cup is tonight? You are truly your father's son."

His father laughed into his coffee cup, picking up the sports section of the Daily Prophet, scanning the page for news on the Cup. Cedric knew that it was a fake laugh, but was too busy thinking about that night to have cared. "Anything?" Cedric said, turning to his father. He just shook his head in response, and Cedric got up.

"What are you doing?" his mother asked, exchanging pages of the paper with his father.

"Getting breakfast," the boy replied. He went over to the cupboard and took out the bread, putting it in the toaster and waiting.

"Bet you can't wait until you're able to magick it," his father said, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "Then you won't have to wait so long and go through those bloody Muggle processes all the time.

Cedric shrugged. "Aw, I dunno," he said. "I guess it's just going to end up being a habit by the time it comes around. But I bet I'll get used to it eventually. Being able to use magic and all, I mean." He grabbed a napkin just as the toast popped out.

Taking his breakfast to his seat at the table should have been easier then it was. At that moment, Fidget, their small black dog, decided to wake up and run right across Cedric's path to his chair. While this was going on, his father stood, paper still at hand, and went to the coffee machine. As Cedric dodged the dog, he ran into his dad, made him drop his cup, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Somehow, the toast remained unharmed.

"Uh," the gray-eyed boy said as he scrambled to his feet, "sorry about that, Dad." He set his toast down on the table as his father drew his wand, muttering, "Reparo."

Mr. Diggory bent at the waist to pick up his cup. "No harm done," he said to his son. "Thank God for magic, hm? What would we do without it? I can't stand the thought of having to live like a Muggle!"

"Dad," Cedric groaned, taking his spot at the table. "It's not that big of a deal."

"It's just that Muggles have to do everything the hard way, and you sort of start to feel bad for them. I'm not making a big deal about it or anything."

Cedric crammed the toast down his throat as his parents stared at him adoringly. "Right berks, the two of you can be," he muttered under his breath. Bits of crumb stuck to his lips, and he brushed them away.

"Hey, Dad," he said, looking at his father, "when exactly are we leaving for the Portkey? And where are we going?"

Mr. Diggory looked at his pocket watch, then at Cedric. "About ten minutes. I believe the place is called Stoatshed Hill. It's about a four hour's walk from here, so you better get ready."

Cedric smiled, nodding, and jumped up to go up to his room. When he got there, he grabbed a small carrying bag, filling it with random items. He tossed in a hairbrush, another pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, his toothbrush, and several other objects he was sure that he wouldn't use but knew that if it came to it, he would have them there.

"Cedric!" Mrs. Diggory called from below. "Your father is leaving - now! Are you ready?"

_If he's leaving now, why does it matter if I'm ready or not?_ He thought quizzically, but abandoned the thought and replied, "Yeah, just let me pull on my shoes."

He went to his dresser, kicking his shoes out from beneath a sock. He slid them on, snatched his bag, and dashed down the stairs.

His mother and father stood at the doorway, exchanging their goodbyes. Cedric took a jacket from the coat rack, slipped into it, and gave his mother a hug. "You be careful, boys," she scolded as she planted a firm kiss on her son's head. She stepped back, holding him by the shoulders and looking at his from arm's length. "Oh, you're so grown up. My little Cedric isn't all that little anymore, is he?"

Cedric smiled softly. "Mum," he said. "We'll be back tomorrow. Don't act like we're dying or something."

Mrs. Diggory's eyes glistened with tears. "I know," she whispered, voice cracking. "It's just…I'm worried something will happen."

"Don't worry, kid," her husband cooed. He gave her a hug, opening the door. "We'll be back by noon tomorrow, trust me." He and Cedric stepped outside.

"See you, Mum," Cedric said, waving, a grin gracing his features.

"Goodbye boys!" she called as they distanced themselves form the house. "Enjoy yourselves! You best come back to me in one piece, the both of you!"

"We will," Mr. Diggory shouted back. The two broke into a slow jog up a hill, waving behind them. "Women," the older man said with exhaustion. "They can be so stubborn, can't they? Especially it they're your wife. But you wouldn't know that, would you?"

"I should hope not," the younger answered.

"Someday you will."

"Someday, yes, but not for a while. There's too much to do while I'm young, and Quidditch is just one of the few things."

Mr. Diggory looked at him as they slowed their pace. "You really are obsessed, aren't you?" he asked, smirking at him.

Cedric let out a barking laugh. "If that's what you want to call it. But I really don't think that's it. I just…don't know, really. I guess it's just that…. It's Quidditch! What's not to like about it?"

Shaking his head, his father put his hands in his pocket. "Obsessed is jut what you are," he concluded, and continued on his way to Stoatshed Hill.

The remainder of their journey was spent in silence, pants from the men as they ran, whistles when things grew too quiet for them, and an occasional laugh at a pair of birds flying with no general idea of what they were doing.

After a long moment of intense quiet, coupled with stumbles and tripping in occasional rabbit holes or thick grass, the twosome emerged from behind a dense forest of shrubbery. A large hill greeted their view, pitch-black sky outlining the deep green of the ground. "This is it, I assume," Cedric said, voice heavy with weariness. "Stoatshed Hill." His dad nodded in assent. "Let's go then."

They began their long climb up the knoll, staggering once every while. Just as they reached the top of it, the sky began to weaken from inky blackness to an intense blue. Cedric glanced at his watch, rubbing his hands briskly together. "Bit cold when we're up here, isn't it?" his father asked, coming up behind him.

"Just a…a bit," he agreed.

"Well, let's get looking then."

"What am I supposed to be looking for again?"

"A boot, I believe."

"A boot? Why a boot?" Cedric began searching behind low bushes, pushing side leaves and stray branches. When he found nothing, he looked around a cluster of rocks, peering intently between the nooks for any sign of footwear. It made no sense to him as to why it couldn't be something a bit more obvious.

"Well," Mr. Diggory began to clarify, "if a Muggle were to find it, they would think that it was just some mislaid trash, but to those who know what they're looking for, it's obviously a Portkey. So I guess they made it so in order to keep Muggles from finding it, most specifically when it was be activated, or about to be." He stood up straight, stretching his back, hands on his waist. "It's our ticket to the World Cup. Imagine the problems that could happed if a Muggle found out."

Cedric smiled. _Well that makes sense, I guess._

They busied themselves once again with their task, attempting to uncover the hiding spot of the Portkey. As soon as Cedric finished lifting, moving, and replacing a worthless rock, he let out a defeated sigh. Once more, he glanced at his watch. "If we don't find it soon, then we'll miss it," he groaned, anxiety claiming his voice.

Mr. Diggory closed his eyes. "Sounds like their coming. If we don't find it, the others will help us look for it."

"Others?" Cedric's face gave off the impression of severe confusion. "Who else is using the Portkey?"

"Just a friend of mine from work and his son's friends. I believe you know them."

"I didn't know that other Wizarding families lived around here."

"There's one that's not coming, and another that's all ready there, but don't worry about it," his father said as he leaned against the trunk of a tree, wiping sweat from his brow. "Why don't you go looking a bit further down there? I don't think we've looked there yet."

Cedric nodded and took off. _What could be here that I can't see from the top of the hill?_ He thought foolishly as he began to strut down the sloping ground. _There's nowhere here to hide anything._

He turned and started scaling the hill again when a shout broke through the air. "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

Cedric dashed up to his father, glancing briefly out to see a group of people coming up the hill in their direction. "Ced," his father said when he reached him, "the boot is up there in the tree, for some unknown reason. You care to go up and grab it for me?"

"Sure," Cedric agreed. One of his favorite pastimes was climbing trees. He was very good at it, even when there were no footholds in the bark to hoist him up. But the tree had branches sticking out at odd angles and various places, and getting up the tree was easy. He got to the Portkey within seconds, jumping out of the tree just as the additional guests arrived. He set the boot down on the ground as he landed, standing up straightly.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said a tall, balding man.

There were several others around him, all of which Cedric recognized. There were the Weasley twins, Fred and George, their brother Ron, their sister Ginny, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. _So this man must be Arthur Weasley_, Cedric concluded.

Mr. Weasley continued, "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

"Hi," the boy said, looking at each of them in turn.

Everyone greeted him and his father except for Fred and George, who nodded in salutations. It took Cedric a moment to realize why they were stingy. _Probably still mad about losing last year. I apologized, didn't I?_

"Long walk, Arthur?" his father asked, snapping Cedric out of his reverie.

"Not too bad," the man replied. "We live just on the other side of the village. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons – and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…." He paused, taking in the six companions of Mr. Weasley. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh, no, only the redheads." He took a moment to introduce the other two.

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Diggory gasped when Harry was introduced. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er – yeah," Harry answered, shuffling a foot back and forth on the ground, stirring dust.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," he informed the black-haired boy. "Told me all about playing against you last year…. I said to him, I said, 'Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…. _You beat Harry Potter!_'"

Cedric buried his hands in his pockets, taking his turn at shoveling dirt with the toe of his shoe. He wouldn't look up, knowing that the twins would be glowering at mere mention of the game, but said rather embarrassedly, "Harry fell off his broom, Dad. I told you…it was an accident…."

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" He gave Cedric a hearty clap on the back, causing the boy to lurch forwards. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman…but the best man won, I'm sure Harry's say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

Cedric flushed a deep red, covering his face by keeping it bowed low. _You're not making this any better, Dad,_ he thought angrily. _No chance now of having a decent conversation with them, especially the twins. Great._

Mr. Weasley seemed to notice the awkwardness and direction the small talk was heading, and quickly intervened. "Must be nearly time," he said quickly, nearly tripping over his own words. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No," he replied, "the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

_So those are the other wizards here,_ Cedric realized.

"Not that I know of," Mr. Weasley said, pulling out a pocket watch similar to that of Mr. Diggory's. "Yes, it's a minute off…. We'd better get ready."

Cedric leaned over to pick up the boot, holding it at arm's length. He waited patiently as Mr. Weasley explained to Harry and Hermione what they should do.

It didn't faze Cedric that they were all gathered around a boot, but as he looked at the uncertain face of Harry, it dawned on him how queer it must have been for him. Harry looked up and caught Cedric's eye. The brown-haired boy smiled at him bleakly, casting a dim light of reassurance. _Yes, this most definitely must look weird._

He turned his face to see each person separately. Mr. Weasley and his dad, both looking down at their watches expectantly; Ron shoving at Fred, who shoved back; George, knocking into Fred to give the push more 'oomph'; Ginny, watching the antics of her brothers; Hermione, who looked slightly nervous; and Harry.

He would have to face him again this year; only this time, it would be a fair fight. There would be no dementors there to cause a reason for distraction for Harry; hopefully, there would be no rain, and only ideal gaming conditions; and most importantly, it would be a test of skill against skill, a chance to prove to his dad that maybe he wasn't the best player.

In a way, he found himself hoping that Harry would beat him.

The soft mumbling of Mr. Weasley, as well as the sudden quieting of the Weasley boys, interrupted his thoughts. "Three…." The countdown began. "Two…one…."

There was a sudden jerking feeling in the back of Cedric's neck. It seemed as though he were caught on a fishing line and was being reeled in mercilessly. He felt the bodies of those around him banging into him, shoulder against shoulder, elbows poking sides. After a moment of floating through the air by means of an unseen hook, he yanked at his hand, relieving it from its grip on the shoe.

Then came the feeling of floating. It happened the last several times he had used a Portkey. Before, when he was inexperienced, he would fall roughly to the ground, limbs tangled in each others' bags and clothing, usually resulting in uncomfortable feelings. But once he had gotten used to it, he was able to control the way his body moved even though he was hooked by some invisible force.

He guided himself to land on his feet, the tugging feeling suddenly being eliminated. He smirked as he saw that he was the only of the children to have managed to stay on his feet. He made as if to help the others up, but stopped as a voice broke the silence, calling, "Seven past five from Stoatshed!"

The group collected themselves, turning to see two wizards. "Morning, Basil," Mr. Weasley said to one of them.

"Hello there, Arthur," the man said. He gave off the effect that he hadn't slept in what must have been days, even though it wasn't all that likely.

"You set, Ced?" His father bent over to ask him as Mr. Weasley took care of talking with Basil. "Excited?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I can't wait!"

" - Called Mr. Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr. Payne."

Mr. Diggory nodded in thanks, guiding Cedric off with the others. They walked for a moment together, until they reached a fork in their path.

"See you lot tonight, then," Mr. Weasley said to the Diggorys.

"Right." Cedric's father took Mr. Weasley's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Nice to see you lot. See you!"

With that, the two parties separated into their respective groups.

"Do you not like them?" Mr. Diggory asked, looking at Cedric, hardness in his eyes.

"N-no," the boy stuttered. "It's that…I don't think that they quite like me."

"Nonsense, boy, everyone likes you. You're a Diggory, finest of them all, perhaps. Everyone likes a Diggory: what's not to like about them?"

Cedric groaned. Maybe that's what there was to not like. There was that small seed of self-centered conceitedness that ran through his blood. Maybe it just a trait that came in his father, or just in his father's blood, though that would mean that it ran also through him, and that's just what Cedric did not want. Either way, it was there, and it was the obstacle to many good things.

Sure, Cedric was popular among the Hufflepuffs, but that was because he was the hero of the house. Everyone looked up to him, whether it was academically, or in his Quidditch skills, or in some less former way. Cedric was the role model for the students.

But yet….

What if that was the small seed of evil in him that was telling him that?


	2. Chapter Two

"Um, excuse me sir, would you happen to be Mr. Payne?"

An old, weary Muggle turned around to look the Diggorys in the face with droopy, bloodshot eyes. "Ay," the man said. "And you would be?"

"Oh, uh, we're the Diggorys, Amos and Cedric. We should be in there somewhere, I believe."

_Well that's a bit stupid_, Cedric thought. _Of course, we're going to be in there! Basil, or whoever that was, said so himself, he told us to come to this field didn't he?_

"Yeah, you're on here," Payne answered, leaning forwards. He let out a sigh, heavy breath stinging Cedric's nostrils. It was a vulgar scent: a tint of past meals, smoke, and what must have been a touch of alcohol blending to form an unknown toxic fume that made him want to gag.

"You have that one," Payne continued, pointing to a vast forest.

Mr. Diggory leaned in the direction that Payne had indicated, peering intently at the dense woodlands. "What one?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, not over there, my bad," the intoxicated man said, words slurring together. "It's the one right over there, near the woods. And, uh, here's a map of the…the campgrounds." He handed Cedric a small pamphlet, who took it hesitantly. "Says that you've had the spot reserved for, um, two weeks. Is that right?" Mr. Diggory nodded. "And, uh, there's going to be a sign in front of your tent. So now, you, need to pay. Right-o."

Mr. Diggory pulled out a wad of money, holding it unsurely in his hands for a moment. "Ced, you wanna help me with this?" he muttered, leaning in towards his son. Reluctantly, Cedric took the money from his father, pulling several bills free from their bundle. He handed it to Payne, who nodded them off.

"The least they could do is keep the drunken Muggles on duty," Mr. Diggory said as they made their way across the campsite.

"Really?" Cedric looked up at his father, a bit confused. "Why?"

"You have to look at it from the overview, son," he explained. "If all the Muggles are all out of it, then they won't really remember any of the magic that goes on. It could save the Ministry a bit of trouble. And if that can be done, then all of them will be able to give a bit more of their time to setting up at Hogwarts for the Tr---"

There was a bang from somewhere off in the campgrounds. A puff of smoke wafted in the air no more then a quarter mile away. Screams echoed through the grounds for a moment, before Mr. Diggory turned to the commotion, preparing himself to Apparate.

"Wait, Dad, what are you doing?" Cedric called as he began to run after him.

"You just go to our spot," he said over his shoulder. "I'm going to go check on the problem, I'll meet you there in about an hour." With a resounding _crack_, he disappeared.

"Mm, fun," Cedric muttered under his breath, tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet along the dirt-strewn campgrounds. _I don't see why he has to but into everyone's business_, he thought as he began kicking a small pebble along the ground in the direction of his campsite. He watched the pebble, paying no mind to where he was going. His lack of attention came back to bite him, though, when he ran into someone.

"Oh, sorry," Cedric said distractedly, attempting to find the pebble again. He had become quite attached to it, in an odd sort of way, and not having it there to kick bugged him.

"No problem, Diggory," said a boy that Cedric was sure he knew, even if it was only by voice.

The gray-eyed boy looked up from his search. There, standing before him, was Oliver Wood, who had just left Hogwarts that year. He was the old Captain and Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and always the competitive one. "Hey, Wood," Cedric said, giving the boy a firm handshake.

"How have you been?" Oliver asked. Cedric knew that he didn't really care, and that he was still sore about losing the game last year, just as the Weasley twins had been.

"Mm, all right," he responded nonetheless. "And you? How's, uh, everything outside of school?"

"Pretty good actually," Oliver responded, shoving his hands into his pockets, walking with Cedric as he continued his tread to his encampment. "Don't have any schoolwork to do, thank Merlin for that. Things are kind of quiet around the house; I've been looking for a place for myself, actually. Oh yeah, I've been signed onto the reserve team for Puddlemore United."

Cedric could tell that by the way that Oliver had said it, he had been waiting to burst out and tell him since they had run in to each other. He glanced up at the former Quidditch Captain and smiled. "Good for you, Wood," he said, a mixture of fake cheeriness and gloom in his voice. He wanted to add, _I'd never even make it there_, but didn't, thinking better of it.

"Yeah, thanks. Hey, where's your tent? Somewhere around here?"

"It should be back there a ways," Cedric replied, vaguely waving a hand in the way they were walking. "What about you? Near here?"

"Oh, no, I'm on a whole different field entirely. The first one, I think. Not sure about that, though. I just felt like, you know," he gestured absentmindedly at the ground, "like walking, I guess."

Cedric nodded, and the two lapsed into quiet. The shorter boy found another stone, and began bumping it along with his toe again. Eventually, if became a game of volleying it back and forth between him and Oliver. They lobbed it to one another for moments, followed by adding special moves, finally trying complex patterns, dodging around other campers as they punted the rock in some strange way.

At last, the pair reached the Diggorys' grounds. A wooden sign in front of a small clearing read, "Digery," and when Wood saw it, he laughed. "Messed your name up, did they? They've gotten quite a few of us wrong, but we're coming from all over, so you really can't blame them, can you?"

"Uh, I guess not," Cedric agreed, not really understanding why any of the names were messed up to begin with.

"Hey, well, I've got to get back to my tent and all that. I don't think that anyone knows that I even left. So, nice seeing you. Maybe we'll meet up at the game, huh?"

There was a stingy note in his voice, though it was well hidden. It seemed that any time Quidditch came up in their conversations, Oliver got a bit cold, reflecting on the past.

"Yeah, I guess," Cedric replied. "And, um, Wood?" Oliver turned around to face him. "You know that match last year?" Oliver's head tilted back a bit, eyes twitching slightly. "It wasn't a fair game. Nothing to base our skills off of. You had a better team than we did, and you know it. You won the House Cup, after all."

Oliver took a step closer to Cedric, a menacing look on his face. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, the boy thought bleakly.

Instead of saying anything, however, Oliver held out his hand, waiting for Cedric to take it. "You're all right, Diggory," he said, giving his hand a resolute shake. With that, Oliver Apparated.

_Well isn't this fun?_ Cedric thought glumly as he sat down on a log near the sign. _Dad's off butting into everyone else's business, the tent's not here to set up, Wood probably thinks that I'm mental, and the Muggles are all drunk. What fun to be had._ "I'm going to go walk around."

He said this last bit out loud to no one in particular as he hoisted himself from his seat on the wood, snickering softly as the pun dawned on him. For some reason, he was happy. Perhaps it was because he had amended things with Oliver, and thought that now, maybe the twins would get over it as well, perhaps allowing them all to form an alliance, even if it was an uneasy one. Or perhaps it was that he was at the World Cup, and less the twelve hours from the greatest moment in his life. Or was it that….

Cedric stopped as a girl came running up to him. "Hi, Cedric, right?" she said, dark hair settling around her shoulders nicely.

"Um, uh, yeah," he stuttered. "Yeah, Cedric. I'm sorry, do I…do I know you?"

"Oh, not personally. I'm Cho. Cho Chang." She stuck out her hand. Cedric took it, believing it to be possibly the hundredth handshake that day. She had a surprisingly strong grip. "We played each other last year. Ravenclaw Seeker and Captain," she concluded.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that!" Cedric beamed. "You tried to pull off a Feint, right?"

"Yeah, that's the game. Oh, I was so angry that you didn't fall for it!"

"Well I saw the Snitch before that. I wasn't going to fall for it that easily!"

"Ooh, we lost that game so badly…."

"Hey, cheer up some. What's done is done. Neither of our Houses won the cup, so why should we dwell on it?"

Cho smiled up at him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So…how's your summer been?"

The two lapsed into a conversation about how the past month had been spent, though there was nothing particularly fascinating from either end. They made their way slowly around the vicinity of the second campground, talking as though they had always been friends.

In a way, Cedric thought back on it later, it was, strangely enough, someone that he had known for much of his life, without actually knowing her. They had been at Hogwarts together for going on five years, only separated by House and age. They knew each other by distant friendships and twisted class schedules, occasionally passing one another in the Great Hall, but it was no more then that.

Yet here they were, acting the part of best friends.

_Ironic_, Cedric thought, a distorted grin pasted to his face.

"-Said that there was going to be something going on at Hogwarts this year, but he wouldn't tell me what." Cho's voice snapped Cedric out of his trance.

"Now that you mention it," he said, reflecting on the brief moments before his father left to take care of things on the other side of the campground, "my dad did say something. He was saying that if there are no real problems here, the Ministry wizards will have more time to be concerned with setting up for something. He didn't finish his sentence, though, so I don't know what."

Cho's face depicted a great effort of thought, so Cedric allowed himself to drift into his mind's opinions once more. _What could it be that the Ministry has to set up for? Could it be the same thing that Cho is talking about?_

Cedric looked down at his watch for the first time since arriving at the site. _It's been more then an hour all ready,_ he realized. _I wonder if Dad's back…._

He stopped where he was, saying to Cho, "Hey, my dad's probably back at my site about now, so I'm gonna head back. You…um, you wanna come with me? My dad won't mind, I don't think."

"Oh," Cho sighed, "I would love to come back with you." Cedric's face lit up. _That's great_, he silently beamed; _now I won't have to suffer Dad's inane rambling alone! And we can talk a while more, and get to know each other, and maybe even sit at the Cup together!_ "But I can't," she finished. "My parents are probably worried about me. I told them I wouldn't be gone for long, and that I was just visiting a friend of mine. They'll probably think that I was abducted or something."

She let out a faltering laugh, and Cedric's face fell. Thankfully, she didn't notice it, or just didn't make comment of it. "Yeah, well, hope to see you at the Cup tonight," he said, trying to force himself to sound happier then he felt.

"I guess," she agreed. "If not, we'll see each other in a month. Right?"

"Right."

Cho turned to walk away. Cedric concealed his hands in the depths of his jean pockets, watching her walk away. She didn't get far, though, before she turned around, calling, "Goodbye, Cedric! I'll owl you sometime!"

He smiled. "Bye, Cho! I promise to write back when you do!"

The couple smiled brightly once, then turned to go back to their respective locations.

Only as he reached what would become his overnight home did he truly understand the magnitude of the event. Seas of green and red flooded the field, cheering wizards and witches, and even a few gamblers, dotting it in waves. There were huddles of Irish supporters that sat discussing Lynch's latest victory for Ireland. Packs of Bulgarian fans catcalled and jeered, exclaiming the brilliance that was Viktor Krum.

Cedric smiled. This is the most perfect place on Earth, he thought as he passed a small child waving around a green Ireland flag. It set him to thinking, _Whom am I going to support? _

He pushed through a mob of bidders and gamblers, finding himself back at his campgrounds, where his father stood, magicking their tent into place.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Cedric asked as he rushed forwards to stop him.

"Putting the tent up," he replied, giving a final flick of his wrist. "Why?"

"We're supposed to set up like Muggles. It's bad enough that the inside is about as Wizard as it gets, but we could at least act like it's not."

"What's done is done, son, no use in fighting it. Now did you get us water?"

Cedric glowered at his father for sheer lack of understanding. "What did you want me to get it in? You ran off, remember? So I had to walk around for the last hour. Alone." Of course, this was a lie, as he was with both Oliver and Cho, but still, if he could kick up the guilty act, it may earn him a few explanations.

More then anything – except maybe the World Cup – Cedric wanted to know what was going to happen at Hogwarts. If he couldn't get that, then he'd go crazy.

His father picked up a rusted and dirtied old in pail. "Here's a bucket, now go on, get us water."

"There's a sink inside. Why can't you use that?"

"Trying to make it difficult, are you?"

"I'm trying to make it difficult? What about you? Running off and minding what everyone else is doing, who knows where." He paused for a moment. "What were you doing?"

Mr. Diggory looked up at his son from his newfound seat on the log. "You mean, back with that cracking noise?" Cedric nodded his head forwards. "A little kid got his hands on a wand and started setting things on fire. Set a few tents aflame and caused a sapling to fall over, but no extensive damage. We were able to convince the Muggles that it was just a wild campfire."

Cedric shuffled a few stray sticks into a pile while listening to his dad, then a few more, adding leaves and mosses this time, and then some more, until a small pile was formed. He sighed in defeat as he took his wand, gave it a flick, muttering, "Incendio," and watching as the wood lit itself on fire.

"Muggles, huh?" His father quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I guess that…" Cedric stuttered. "You know…um…."

"Never mind."

There was a short moment of quiet between the two, but the thought kept resurfacing in Cedric's mind: _What was going to happen at Hogwarts this year?_

He tried to preoccupy himself from asking, using all sorts of odd methods. He kicked at stones on the ground, he wrote words in the dirt using the toe of his shoe, he counted the times that the fire cracked or popped, causing spurts of ash or smoke, but he couldn't hold it in. He needed to know what was going to happen. That, or he would die of curiosity.

"Dad," he burst out after spelling 'Surprise at Hogwarts' in the ground and scratching it out, "is there something that's going to happen this year at school that…I should know about?"

Mr. Diggory straightened on his log. "Why would you ask something like that?" he asked, feigning stupidity.

"You were saying before you left that the Ministry would do well to go without any problems here so they could have more time to set up for something. And while you were gone, I was talking with a school friend of mine. Her dad also said something like that; only he told her that something was happening at the school this year for sure. What is it?"

Mr. Diggory stood up, stretching his back. "There's nothing all that important happening this year. Don't worry. It's going to be a…safe…school year."

_Could there be dementors coming back? No, that would be stupid, especially after last year. Then what is it?_

Cedric gave his father a patronizing look. "I don't think that you're being entirely honest with me, Dad," he said, letting his face drop in disappointment. "But if you don't want to tell me…I guess I'll wait." _Ooh, smart, Ced. Now he'll never tell you._

"Why…don't we wait until after we've eaten to further discuss this, eh, son?" He pushed back the flap that served as a door to the tent and walked inside.

_So I guess that I will have to wait to find out then_, Cedric thought glumly as he followed his father. _That's okay. I can wait. I can be patient when I need to be._

_And I will._


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: I don't own any of this. It is a mixture of the book and the movie, with some characters that have been created by other people. Calvin and Shophie belong to Dracoshipper, and Alec belongs to jennifer williams of HPFF. Thanks to the two of you, without whom, Cedric would be friendless.

Also, thanks to tonksandlupin, also of HPFF, who kindly took up the task of being beta for this chapter, as well as the last two.

Before you begin though, I would like to apologize for two mistakes in the last chapter: One, Cho is not the captain of the Ravenclaw team, it should have been "wanna-be Captain." Two, Cedric shouldn't have used magic to light the fire, as his birthday isn't for another few chapters (something to look forwards to).

Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the third installment of Cedric Diggory and the Triwizard Tournament!

"Are you sure you're going to bet something like that, boy?"

Cedric looked at the Ministry wizard with disbelief. "If you think it's such a stupid bet, then why do you care?" he asked in shock. "You're going to win, so you should be happy you're going to make money off stupid kids like me."

The wizened old man laughed. "I like your thinking," he said, ruffling Cedric's hair. "All right, all right, but if you lose, don't come crying to me about it."

"I don't cry to anyone," the gray-eyed boy muttered darkly.

"What did you say, kid?" the man asked, leaning in a bit, money box held close, as though he feared somebody coming to steal it from him.

"N-nothing," Cedric said as he took out his sack of golden coins. "Now I said how much?"

The wizard laughed, looking down at his pad of bets, scanning the list of names for the aforementioned young man. "Ah, right here. 'Cedric Diggory, thirty Galleons on Irish National.' You sure you don't want to change those bets?"

Cedric, however, was all ready counting out gold coins to exchange with the man. "Thirty Galleons it is, then."

The man stared at him with wide eyes, dumbly handing him a scrap of parchment that read both his name and bet. Cedric nodded to the man, who dim-wittedly placed the money into a bag, turned and walked away, yelling, "Anybody want to place a bet on the Champion of the Cup?"

Cedric tucked the slip of paper into his pocket and turned around slowly, a satisfied grin on his face. "That, my good man, is how you place a proper bet," he said to a boy around his age, yet was slightly on the smaller side.

Calvin Malacus stepped around a rather large boulder, hands fidgeting with a small scrap of parchment that obviously came from another gambler.

"Um," Calvin started, but stopped quickly when he realized that he had nothing to actually say.

"It's getting kind of late," Cedric said as he looked around at the bustling crowds, all clamoring around a merchant person of one with who they were going to place stakes. "Why don't you head on back to your place and we'll catch up after the Cup, eh?"

Calvin nodded, shoving his bet in his pocket. "O-okay, Cedric. See you, then."

Once the boy was out of hearing distance and well out of sight, Cedric let out an exaggerated sigh. _Sure, the guy's a nice person_, he thought exhaustedly, _but he's a bit dweeby. I really don't understand why I bother with him sometimes. He's such a hopeless case._

Cedric began to walk back to his campsite slowly. Even though the boy was on a different field entirely, he didn't want to get back quickly, because there was still quite a little time to waste before everyone started to fill into the stadium for the match. He wanted to look around, see how everyone else was celebrating, and maybe even buy some sort of souvenir to bring home to his mother.

He had decided that he was going to support Ireland when he placed his bets on their victory, yet he showed no sign of spirit towards them. Maybe he would stop by a stand and get face paint or a flag. He had to show some sort of recognition for his team, didn't he? Or was that just the deep recesses of his mind trying to give him something to think about?

"Oi, Ced!"

A call made the boy stop in his tracks and look around questioningly. Who was calling him?

A hand was slammed down on his shoulder behind him, making Cedric jump. His breath caught in his throat. He spun around.

"What's wrong, Diggory?" said a dirty-blonde haired boy. "Looks like you've seen a ghost!"

"Just about," Cedric muttered as he inhaled deeply. "Next time, Alec, warn me before you do that."

Alec Wiken smirked at him. "Ah, but that would take the fun out of it."

"For you, maybe. It would at least save me."

"Save you what?"

Cedric stalled for a moment. Why did he say that? It made less sense to him then to any other person on earth, which seemed a bit sad. "Ah, nothing. Say, who are you supporting?

The two boys began walking as Alec replied, "Who else? Bulgaria. They have Krum, remember?"

"I'll give you that; Krum's a decent Seeker and all that, but when it comes down to skill, Ireland outdoes them by a mile."

"Just because they have Lynch?"

"That would be like saying that just because Bulgaria has Krum, they'll win. Sure the Seekers are important to the game, but when you think about it, Chasers are by far more important."

Alec laughed. "Are you insulting yourself?" he asked, turning in amazement to face his friend. "You're a Seeker, remember."

"And you're a Beater. So I'm insulting you as well."

"Point made. But I still say that Bulgaria is going to win. I can tell," he closed his eyes as he said this, "that by the inner aura of this campsite, Krum will catch the Snitch."

Cedric laughed. "I don't think that made any sense at all," he said as they passed a particularly loud and crowded concession stand.

Alec shrugged, his small green eyes darting around to look at all the goods that were being sold. He veered away from Cedric when he saw an oversized Bulgarian banner on sale. Cedric joined him at the side of a large trolley not a moment later, and both were looking at a wide assortment of objects.

There were flags and banners that played the national anthem of their teams whenever they were waved; walking models of the players from each team; a wide assortment of clothing bearing the teams' emblems; and little rosettes that, when pushed, squealed out the names of various players.

Cedric's smile expanded as he watched a miniature Firebolt as it zoomed around, apparently unaware of what it was doing. He laughed as it flew straight into a boxed figurine of Krum, fell to the table, and then started soaring again.

Alec looked at him as though he was mental, and perhaps, Cedric realized, maybe he was. It didn't really bother him much. What was life without a little insanity, he reasoned with no one in particular.

Alec picked up an oversized flag bearing the Bulgarian logo on it and draped it around himself. "What do you think?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders forwards and back foolishly.

"I think," said a rather irate sales wizard, "that you should set it down unless you intend on buying it."

Cedric and Alec looked at each other for a moment, snickering as the boy put the cloth back. Instead, he picked up a red banner and bought it.

"You getting anything, Ced?"

"Mm, I don't know yet," he replied unsurely. "If I want something, I'll come back later."

"All right," Alec replied, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. "Don't blame me if everything's sold out though." He lifted up the flag again, only to be caught by the same wizard, who scowled, yelling at him to leave the area.

Alec turned, laughing manically. "What's with the old geezer?" he wheezed between chortles of laughter. "'Put that down now,' he says!" Once more, he collapsed into laughter as Cedric walked along beside him, snickering as well, as crazy smile lightening his face.

"Right mental, he was," muttered Alec as they reached the Diggorys campground thirty minutes and six impressions later. It had started to become boring, in Cedric's opinion, but he wasn't going to bother with informing his friend unless he was going to go crazy due to poor imitations.

Cedric's father was standing outside the tent, peering up at a dark cloud. When he saw the boys approaching, he called, "You two don't think the weather will turn bad tonight, do you?"

Cedric looked up, squinting past the bright rays of the sun to see one, sole cloud, heavy and gloomy looking. "No, I doubt it," he said, resisting the urge to be sarcastic. It was, after all, only one cloud. Nothing to be worried about, and yet, here was his dad, peering at it as though it were a letter from the messengers of the underworld.

Alec leaned in towards Cedric, whispering, "Good luck with him." Straightening himself, he turned. "I'm going to head on back to my place," he declared. "I'll see you all later, then?"

Cedric turned to him, mouthing the words, "Thanks, you git," then waving, replacing his scowl with a look of fake cheer.

"Well, Ced," his father said as he came up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like it's just you and me for the next few hour or so, then it's off to the Cup!"

Cedric held up his pointer fingers, twirling them in the air. "Woo," he said dully. "I love waiting. Mm. A whole two hours of it."

"And then some!" his father added joyously.

"And then some," Cedric echoed monotonously.

"Now come on in, Ced." His father waved a hand at him as he held back the flap to the tent. "We're going to eat, relax, then head to the stadium so we can get our seats early."

"Roger," Cedric said, a tint of sarcasm in his voice, and entered the tent.

"For the hundredth time, Dad, no!"

"Oh, really, then?" His father sent him a sly look from across the table. "Then how do you plan on getting around?"

Cedric was quickly getting agitated, longing more then ever to up and leave the tent, but there was something holding him to his spot. "Dad," he said calmly, trying once more as he set down his fork, "I do not want to learn to Apparate."

"Well why not?"

"Because from what everyone tells me, it gets you sick for the first few months, and I honestly don't want to be throwing up every time I do it. There are other ways of getting around, you know."

"Such as?" His father waved his spoon around in distracting little circles.

"Like…." Cedric stalled, watching the progression of the silverware, blinking when he realized he was being diverted from their conversation. He tried again. "Like flying and Floo powder. They work well, too."

"I'll give you that they work _fine_, but is that what you're going to settle for? Just _fine_? Boy, you're a Diggory, Diggorys don't settle for fine, they settle for the best!"

Cedric stood up, walking to the small sink. "Whatever, Dad," he muttered. He wanted to finish by saying, _There's no point in arguing with you – you never win_, but he didn't, thinking ahead to the better of the two choices.

There came a popping noise from just outside the tent, making Cedric jump slightly, breath catching in his throat as he dropped his plate into the silver basin with a clatter. Mr. Diggory stood and walked to the entrance, peering around the cloth flap to see who or what it was that had caused the disturbance.

"Oh, hello there, Ludo!" his voice came happily.

A rather heavily set looking man walked into the ten, uninvited though he was, tucking his thumbs into his pants pockets. He smiled exaggeratedly around at the inside of the tent before taking Cedric in. He peered at the boy up and down, turning to Mr. Diggory and saying, "So this is your boy? Cedric, wasn't it?"

"The very one," said his father as he walked over to him, swinging his arm around his shoulders. "The one that beat Harry Potter in Quidditch! I said to him, just this morning, actually, that it'll be something to tell his kids and their kids, and it'll go down in history!"

Ludo Bagman's eyes grew as he surveyed the Seeker further. "Oh, really?" he said in shock. "I just talked with young Mr. Potter. Great kid, he is. Can only imagine his skills. He may be a fine Seeker some day if half the rumors are true – playing right on the very team that I did!"

Mr. Diggory's face deepened in color, but Bagman didn't seem to have noticed. "That's going to be my son, actually. Quite a genius on a broom!"

Cedric found a sudden fascination with his shoelaces and carefully began to study them. _Not again_, he thought bitterly. _I don't want to be publicized!_

Bagman nodded in approval to the boy. "You yourself wouldn't be all too bad on a team either, but, hey, that's not what I came here to tell you lot! Amos, we're going to start ushering in people for the match, so I was wondering if you would help with that. Eh?"

Mr. Diggory acquiesced, saying, "Of course, Ludo, where do you want me to stand?"

"Mm, come with me and I'll get you set up."

Mr. Diggory looked back at his son before he left the tent. "You coming with me, Ced, or you going to stay here for a while?"

Cedric hesitated, weighing the choices studiously. If he stayed at the tent, what exactly would he be able to do for the next hour that kept him busy? But if he went with his father, the chances were great that he would become an exhibit, proudly entitled: The Boy Who Beat Harry Potter. He closed his eyes for a moment, but snapped them open almost instantly when an image of him standing in a cage with a sign sticking out of the ground in front of him reading, "The Boy Who Won" flashed through his mind.

Yet maybe he would be able to skip out on the humiliation, and just head right to the stands to get his seat. That would be perfect. It was all that he wanted.

"I'm coming," he said, almost tripping over his own words.

The two older men watched him curiously as he barged between them, walking hastily out of the tent in the direction of the stadium. They shrugged at each other, and then followed.

"This is him! The one who beat Harry Potter! I say to him, I say, that's going to be some tale to tell the kids in the next generation, given that they know who Potter is."

_I knew this would happen_, Cedric scolded himself. _I told myself that if I went I would be a circus animal to him. I knew it would happen, I swear I knew it!_

_Then why did I come?_

The stadium's shadow loomed over them. In the distance, the arena shone brightly with thousands of lamps, illuminating the land and trees around it for acres. The loud rumble of thousands of fans came from that direction, even though the match was still an hour away.

_This is amazing_, Cedric thought as a grin spread across his face, allowing him to drown out the talk of his father and the Ministry wizard that walked slowly behind him. _This is just…incredible! I…can't believe that I'm actually here, at the Quidditch World Cup, the first one held here in ages! And I'm here; I'm actually, really, truly here! This is – _

He jerked forwards as his father thumped him hard on the back. He flailed his elbows, trying in vain to pull his hands out of his pockets and keep his balance all at once. He managed to steady himself, turning to glare with determined anger at his dad.

"Is that so?" asked the wizard who had been talking with Mr. Diggory. "Hm, young man? Is it true?"

Cedric looked from the wizened old wizard to his father, question and perplexity in his eyes, clearly screaming, 'What am I supposed to tell him?"

But he didn't have to worry, because Mr. Diggory quickly, yet confidently, said, "Well of course it's true! He's a Diggory! It's just the natural skill, is all. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the next Viktor Krum!"

_I'm not Bulgarian_, Cedric thought, scowling as he turned around and continued walking. _I don't much like Krum, anyway. Too showy._

_Or is it just that I'm envious?_

Cedric paused, realizing how deep and reflective his thoughts had been that day. What did it mean? Was there a reason?

_No_, he scolded, _you're doing it again. No more deep thoughts! Enjoy yourself!_

He looked down at his shoes as he walked, making his way slowly but surely, trying to drown out the conversations of his father's. The first Ministry wizard had left, and in his place came a steady stream of others. Of course, he heard the drone of their words, and whispers of sentences, but nothing fully registered with him. He focused, above all else, on reaching the stadium: on the cheers of fans, the players waiting for the match to begin, and the bubbles of excitement that were steadily rising within him.

Finally, after what seemed to take longer then anything else he had ever waited for, they arrived.

An enormous grin spread across his face, eyes widening in amazement, as he looked up at the pitch, towering above him, casting them into darkness within its long shadow. The roar of the crowds all ready inside were nearly deafening, and it only made him happier to know that his voice would soon combine with the others.

"Beautiful," his father shouted, the words coming out as nothing more then a whisper. But it didn't matter to Cedric; if he no longer heard anything, he wouldn't have minded it one bit.

He turned to look at his father, expression alone relaying his message: "Please, don't make me stay out here! Let me go in there, please, Dad?"

A laugh came to Mr. Diggory's lips, and he nodded. Cedric waited for a moment, smile expanding even further, not saying anything. His father understood, and gave him a nudge on the shoulder, telling him that he would be in soon and to be careful.

Cedric nodded, turning to run and join the line awaiting entrance.

_I'm finally here, _he thought blissfully, _about to enter the arena for the Quidditch World Cup. I'm not waiting any longer. I've done that long enough. _

_And besides, it's Quidditch!_


End file.
